


Necessary Evil

by batmans_attic



Series: Chaotic Good [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Seven Soldiers of Victory, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Gen, Klarion-centric, Occupational hazards of being a hero, Steph is Bruce’s bio kid, Teenage Rebellion, Tim & Steph & Klarion go on wild adventures, Tim is gay and in the closet, Villain Redemption, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:47:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21652486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/batmans_attic/pseuds/batmans_attic
Summary: Young Justice AU. Set in the gap between seasons 1 and 2. The Light loses their designated magic wielder, and no one is happy about it.
Relationships: Klarion & Jason Blood, Klarion & Stephanie Brown & Tim Drake, Klarion & Teekl, Klarion & The Light (Young Justice), Klarion & The Team (Young Justice)
Series: Chaotic Good [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1635082
Comments: 33
Kudos: 81





	1. Defeat

It had been a long time since Klarion had felt anything resembling fear. Then again, it had been a long time since anyone had made him bleed, either. He was a Lord of Chaos, an immortal being in possession of ancient magic, and as such he was not _weak_. If there was anything Klarion hated more than no-good heroes and their annoying brat sidekicks, it was weakness.

Yet there he was, utterly powerless, crumpled at the feet of Fate and hating himself for it. Everything hurt. Was this what dying felt like? He couldn't remember. Thoughts and feelings whirled together in his fractured mind—around and around like a carousel from Hell—becoming an inescapable haze of pain. Maybe being sent home wouldn't be so bad after all. He could heal faster there for sure, but then again, home was dreadfully boring compared to this world.

"Around, around in Limbo Town," he rasped, and black blood bubbled on his lips with every stuttered exhale. The stinging in his chest was quickly fading to a distant warmth. Now he was just cold. It occurred to Klarion that he might die before his exile.

"I think he's going into shock!" someone shouted. Oh, right. He had been battling the Justice League. He should have won, but it seemed as though they were done pulling punches on account of his age. They must still be angry over his last stunt with the Light. His head lolled to the side, and Fate entered his line of vision. Klarion could see green eyes blazing underneath the golden helmet. He had almost forgotten that the self-righteous geezer had found a new host—a _stronger_ host.

"What do you want, old man? You don't seem like the gloating type." Fate didn't answer him, or maybe he did, but Klarion wasn't listening. He struggled to keep his eyes open as the Lord of Order conjured an ankh and raised it over his head. He was chanting something, but Klarion couldn't understand what. Was he trying to speed things along? How rude.

The thought made him cackle, though it ended abruptly with a gurgle and a coughing fit. He was choking on his own blood. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. This wasn't funny anymore. He wanted out. Now.

"Teekl," he whispered. He knew his familiar wasn't dead, otherwise he would have been vanished from this plane, but he couldn't sense her presence. She always came when he called, so why wasn't she here now? It dawned on him that something had been draining his magic while he was distracted.

A pained yowl sounded across the clearing. Klarion jerked his head toward the noise and his vision blurred. They had his cat. They were going to murder his cat. He wanted to shout or scream or _something_ —there was another way to send him home—but all he could do was lie there. He looked up at fate, pleading with his eyes. The Lord of Order _knew_ of such a way, yet he made no move to stop them. Why would he? Fate was never merciful. The ageless entity had wanted Klarion to suffer for years, and now he had his opportunity. The other heroes would never know. There was nothing more painful than destroying the bond between witch and familiar. 

He was crying, and he felt like such a _baby_. Another weakness. Yet the traitorous tears continued their descent down his pallid blue, bloodstained cheeks. Oh well. His pride had long since died in the wake of his unexpected, humiliating defeat. 

Another voice was talking to him. Wonder Woman. "Klarion, you are being taken into Justice League custody."

He let the darkness overtake him as his eyes slipped shut.


	2. Interrogation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally posted an update! Hallelujah! Thank you so much for all of the wonderful comments; I love reading and responding to each and every one of them. This chapter was intended to give more insight to my interpretation of Klarion's character as he is in Young Justice while also setting up lots of room for growth. The plot starts picking up next chapter, and with my current outline this story looks like it's going to be about twenty chapters in total. I have also made this story a part of a bigger series that's going to focus on Klarion and the people who become important to him. I have a lot planned and I'm excited to keep sharing with you as I write it all out. Stay tuned! I can't promise a set schedule at this time, but the space between this update and the next will hopefully be a lot smaller.

Klarion's wrists were an angry red where his skin came into contact with the thin metal chains linking his arms together. The flimsy device—handcuffs, he believed they were called—were a far cry from the magic-laden shackles reserved for Limbo Town's prisoners. Such mortal means of containment should have been below him, yet here he was, drained of his powers. They were connected to the table in front of him, forcing him to hunch forward and sit on the edge of his seat. The position put a strain on his injured torso, and he would make sure to complain about it when a hero inevitably interrupted his solitude. The room they had placed him in was sparse but well lit. His chair, the table, and another chair opposite to his took up most of the small space. There was an oblong mirror spanning across one of the white walls, but no visible exit. It didn't seem like a cell, but he wasn't sure.

A section of the wall slid away in front of him, and Klarion tensed. A blonde woman in dark clothes entered the room. He recognized her as the banshee. What was her name again? It was something avian. Black Birdy? Crying Canary?

"You can relax, Klarion. We won't hurt you," Bird Lady said.

He scowled at her, and internally berated himself for letting his emotions run rampant across his face. He was not a scared little boy; he was a powerful agent of chaos. _Then act like it_ , he thought.

"Aren't you guys the ones I have to thank for this?" He tried to gesture to himself but the handcuffs pulled him back to the table with a loud clank that echoed in the tiny room. He bit down on his tongue to stop a pained yelp from leaving his lips, though he only somewhat succeeded; a sharp hiss escaped between his clenched teeth as the metal dug into his skin. He kept his eyes firmly on the ground as he blinked away the beginning of tears. _Why did these hurt so bad?_

Her boots clacked dully against the floor as she moved to sit across from him. "Klarion, please look at me." He slowly lifted his gaze to meet hers, mustering as much hatred as he could to appear intimidating. It took him off guard to see that his own negative feelings weren't reciprocated. He had messed with her hero friends, hadn't he? Was this not an opportunity for her to get even? Kick him while he was already down in a fit of self-righteous fury? Instead, he was on the receiving end of an achingly familiar look. While her complexion was quite fair in comparison, she reminded him greatly of his mother. Not for the first time since his capture, he yearned to return home. His confidence faltered, and she spoke.

"I need you to understand that while we may have been a bit... overzealous... in our fight, you had to be stopped. You were hurting innocent people."

And just like that, the moment was lost. Klarion rolled his eyes. "You heroes are so predictable. There are no _innocent_ _people_ here. Besides, they were going to die anyway, so why does it matter?"

Bird Lady didn't look irritated by his statement like he had hoped. Instead, she looked thoughtful. "You don't believe people are innocent?" she asked after a moment.

"Of course not. They're all liars who want to hurt me. Except for the Light, that is."

"Did Vandal Savage tell you that?"

Klarion's mouth snapped shut with an audible click as his temper rose. "I'm not going to tell you _anything_ ," he grit out between clenched teeth.

She seemed taken aback, but he knew it was just an act. "What do you mean?"

"First, you humiliate me in battle. Then, you take away my familiar and my magic. Even now, you pretend to be my _friend_ as you manipulate me for information. I won't tell you anything! You can't make me talk. I don't have to listen to your feeble attempts at trickery."

"Klarion—"

He slammed his fists on the table. "Why. Won't. You. Stop. Talking. ShutupshutupshutupshutupSHUTUP _SHUTUP!_ " While he couldn't bring his hands up to cover his ears, he could squeeze his eyes shut and talk over the siren until he couldn't hear her anymore, so that's exactly what he did. He almost didn't notice the stinging sensation in his wrists.

"Klarion! Your hands!" she shouted.

_What?_

When he opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was that the big bad Bat had entered the room and was stalking toward him with a glare that could have rivaled Submissionary Judah's. The second thing he noticed was that his hands were _steaming_. Blisters and welts festered along his wrists like grotesque bracelets. He examined them with a growing sense of horror. _These must be made of iron_ , he thought numbly. Iron, a weakness his people had inherited from their fae ancestry. Without the invincibility of a chaos lord, Klarion was just a Witch Boy, and Witch Boys could be grievously injured. He panicked.

"Get them off! Get them off!" It hurt. It really, _really_ hurt. He wasn't in the room anymore. He was in the town square, burning at the stake. The smell of his own charred flesh permeated the air. He couldn't breathe. The smoke clogged his senses, suffocating him.

With two faint clicks, the handcuffs came undone and the spell was broken. He barely registered that he was being carried by the giant man. "Hey! Put me down! Where are you taking me?" For as much as Klarion clawed and kicked and punched and scratched, the Bat's face (what was visible, which wasn't much) remained impassive.

"I'm taking you to the med bay," he growled. "Stop fighting." Klarion slumped in defeat and exhaustion.

* * *

The thick bandages wrapped around his wrists itched something fierce. Klarion was once again in the tiny room with the table, chairs, and oblong mirror. He didn't know how long it had been (time passed differently here than it did in Limbo Town), but he found he didn't much care. Seconds? Minutes? Months? These words held no meaning to him. Unlike last time, there were no handcuffs, and Klarion was free to move about as he pleased. Another hero had escorted him here. The fast one. It was clear that he didn't like Klarion, but he made conversation anyway. "Kid Flash told me about you," he had said. "He said that you tried to warn him about the Helmet of Fate when you two fought once. Don't make me regret leaving you alone in here." He had left without another word, and Klarion took full advantage of this newfound freedom.

While the room was small, he thoroughly investigated all of it. It was better than sitting still, stuck with his thoughts. Movement allowed him to avoid certain subjects, like the whereabouts of his poor cat. At least he knew she was close by. However, even this welcome distraction couldn't take away the pain of missing his magic. At first, it had felt as though someone had carved into his very being and left a gaping hole in his chest after taking something vital. All that was left was a resounding emptiness, and the rest of his senses had entered a state of numbness. It was like the premature loss of a family member, but somehow even worse. Whatever spell had been cast on him was slowly dissipating, though. It still hurt, but it was more like his magic was on the other side of a locked door that he had his ear pressed against, listening for something (whatever it was, he had no idea) in vain.

He had taken to tracing the many grooves along the walls, pondering how to go about unlocking said metaphorical door, when literal door slid away, nearly pinching his fingers. Klarion stumbled backwards and lost his footing; he fell to the ground and scrabbled away from the door. His wrists complained at their sudden use, but he was too occupied in his retreat to care. Bird Lady merely arched a brow at his antics. The wall slid closed behind her and she moved to sit down. "You can have a seat when you're ready," she said.

Klarion felt his face warm as got up and sat in the chair across from her. Trying to reclaim some of his dignity, he crossed his arms and sneered. "What do you want this time?"

Bird Lady remained undeterred. "I want to apologize for our last meeting. We didn't know about the iron."

"I don't believe you."

Bird Lady sighed. "I think we got off on the wrong foot. I started asking you questions and didn't even think to answer any that you might have. Let's start over. You can ask me anything."

"Anything?"

She nodded.

It was as if everything he had been thinking about recently—worries and concerns—came spewing forth. "What's your name? Why am I here? What have you done to my magic? Will it ever come back? Where is Teekl? Is she okay? I swear if you've hurt her—"

She held up a hand. He stopped immediately. Was this another trick? "In the future, let's do one question at a time. My name is Black Canary. You're here because we truly believe that you can change your ways. While you have done terrible things, you're still very young. As for your magic, that depends entirely on you. Teekl is safe, though she is not happy to be kept away from you. You will get to see her again soon. Did I miss anything?"

"No." Klarion scowled again. Just because he had answers didn't mean he needed to be grateful. And he already knew Teekl was upset. They were best friends, after all. He didn't need her to tell him that. 

The conversation stalled and they sat in silence, Klarion stewing in his thoughts and Black Canary studying him quietly. "I have just one question to ask you," she said after awhile.

Klarion began to object, but she interrupted him. "It's not about the Light, I promise. You don't have to answer if you don't want to, but you might not like the decision we make if you don't."

He knew she couldn't be trusted, but she looked like she was telling the truth. (She looked like his mother). "Okay, fine. What do you want to know?"

"You aren't going to stay on the Watchtower forever. Is there anyone besides the Light that you trust here on Earth? Doctor Fate has graciously offered to—"

"Absolutely not! I would rather go home than stay with that old, self-righteous geezer."

She didn't react to his outburst at all like he was hoping. He was surprised she didn't jump to his defense; he was one of her hero friends, right? "Do you have anyone else in mind?" was all she asked.

At first, he wasn't sure what to say. Then, he smiled as a plan formed in his mind. Klarion would never stop causing chaos, even if he lacked powers for the time being. "Well, there is _one_ other person..." 


End file.
